


Faith and Hope

by Tarlan



Category: Seventh Sign (1988)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-27
Updated: 2006-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russell faces his first Christmas without Abby but with their son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith and Hope

The little boy cried out ecstatically, tiny hands grabbing for the shiny baubles and sparkling tinsel decorating the Christmas tree. He tried to grasp one of the lower branches to lever himself onto his shaky feet but Russell grabbed hold of him. Cries of protest turned to gurgles of pleasure as he was hugged to the broad chest of the most important person in his young life.

Russell grinned as inquisitive little fingers played with his nose and mouth, before tugging at his hair.

"Hey!"

He loosened the surprisingly strong grip and set the child back down on the floor a little further back from the tree, then shook his head in exasperation when the boy instantly made a beeline for it on all fours. Common sense took hold and Russell picked up the brightly decorated tree and placed it onto the cabinet, well out of reach of small hands.

The day past slowly, filled with tiny moments that would be forever engraved upon his heart and, eventually, the boy tired. Russell sank into the comfortable armchair with the boy cradled against his chest. His finger glided across one silky cheek to the tiny ears, and then into the silky wisps of dark blond hair as he stared into the angelic, sleeping face. At times like these his son looked so much like his mother, and Russell felt a prickle of tears burning in his eyes as he remembered Abby.

Almost ten months had passed since the day he lost her and gained his little boy. The whole world had been in turmoil. Floods, famines, earthquakes, rivers turning red with blood, and fish dying upon the shores. Then there was the strange eclipse and a covering of blood-red cloud across the face of the moon.

And the sparrows. So many dead sparrows. Someone once told him that sparrows were the most blessed of birds for they could see the new souls descending from the Guf in heaven.

Barely could he recall the journey from the prison execution chamber to the hospital on that day, except picking their way swiftly across debris littered with the tiny bodies of dead sparrows as the earth shook beneath them. It had seemed as if the whole of the earth had let up a cry and shook with mourning the moment Jimmy Szaragosa was cut down by Father Lucci's gun, the bullet having passed through Abby to strike him. She had let out such a terrible cry of loss as she turned her head and saw him lying there, dead.

Russell had left Abby's side for only the time it took to draw on a green surgical gown, hat and mask, and even that seemed forever to him at the time. In retrospect it seemed a little ludicrous now for the room had been shaking violently, the lights flickering, instruments and bowls falling from shelving as a thick cloud of dust filled the air surrounding them. Hardly the sterile environment.

The trauma surgeon had done his best to stem the bleeding from Abby's gunshot wound, padding both entrance and exit wound but her body betrayed his work every time she bore down in her labor.

Russell could still hear the words called anxiously across the room as Abby pushed one last time. "We've lost the baby's heartbeat."

Abby gave a piercing cry of despair, and then an eerie silence descended upon the whole room. The earth stopped shaking, the dust floated slowly down between them all as Russell looked at the child they had wanted so much knowing there was no life inside him. Most likely killed by both placenta deficiency and the trauma of his mother's injuries, though one person among them thought he knew differently.

Avi, the Jewish boy she had befriended in those last days, had tried to explain to him that Jimmy had been the fifth sign of the apocalypse; the last martyr, executed by man for carrying out the will of God. The Seventh sign, which heralded Judgment Day, had been the quietest and most damning of them all, the first child born without a soul. Only the few people crowded into the operating theater had seen this sign, though none had recognized it for what it was except for Avi who watched from the open doorway.

Russell remembered Abby's soft, pleading words as she reached out to the stillborn child. "Yes! I'll die for him. I will die for him."

As if by a miracle, the tiny still form took a deep breath and a frail newborn cry fell from blue-tinged lips. Tears had filled Russell's eyes at that moment, watching the tiny fingers wrap around his mother's as his small heart started to beat again.

It was if Abby had been holding on only long enough to see life fill the child they had created, for then she was gone; the flat lines moving slowly across the monitor as a steady mourning beep filled the air.

They handed him his son, cleaned and swaddled in a blue towel, and he took the beautiful child to his mother's side, dearly wishing she could have stayed with them to see her beautiful boy one more time. When he looked up he saw David Bannon, their enigmatic boarder, standing across the room.

"The Hall of Souls is full again." He spoke solemnly, compassion filling the blue eyes that held Russell's. He never saw David again, but strangely, in the days to come it was that compassion that made his grief more bearable.

 _Just one person with hope enough for the whole world_ , and Abby had been filled with that hope as she looked upon the child she had wanted so desperately; the child now cradled in his arms.

With infinite care, Russell stood up and carried the boy to his cot, lying him down and stroking the soft cheek as a pair of green eyes opened sleepily to stare up at him. He turned the dial and watched for a while as the baby mobile of shining stars circled over the spellbound child's head to the sound of _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_.

As midnight approached, Russell sat in a darkened room lit only by the delicate colored lights on the Christmas tree, sipping at a glass of red wine. The soft glow warmed the room with only the occasional rustle and sound of soft breathing coming through the baby monitor. He sighed deeply, missing Abby so badly, with tears tracking down his face as he closed his eyes and fell into a light sleep.

His dream was filled with a warmth that seeped to the depths of his soul, feeling her gentle laughter close by, scenting the perfume that she loved to wear. Her soft dark hair drifted around his face as he felt the light pressure of a kiss.

You're not alone, Russell, she whispered into his ear. I'll always be watching over you and Peter, my little rock of faith... and hope.

Russell opened his eyes but the room was empty. It had been just a wonderful dream, and then he noticed the perfume still lingering in the air around him, and he smiled.

"Merry Christmas, Abby, wherever you are."

THE END


End file.
